


And If I'm Lucky You Can Stay For a While

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Living Together, Rain, blanket nest, well full shift werecoyote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person A arguing with B to take a raincoat, despite it being sunny out. Person B comes home, drenched, snappy, and waiting for an inevitable “I told you so”. However, the moment Person B opens the door, they are assaulted with warm blankets, hot tea, and concerned cuddles from Person A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If I'm Lucky You Can Stay For a While

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/136558297550/prompt-person-a-arguing-with-b-to-take-a). Title from the [State Champs song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOZEhFHWZD4).

There are few things Malia hates more than being wrong. Unfortunately, being a newcomer to the strange and puzzlingly nuanced human world doesn’t help exactly help. That’s part of why she detests math, and academics in general, so much. She despises the liberal amounts of stark red highlighter in all of her text books.

It also contributes to why Malia dislikes people outside the pack. They don’t understand why she just can’t seem to get the hang of, to them, seemingly simple social cues. Instead of shaking an outstretched hand, she tends to growl at it—ew, why would she want to get some stranger’s stench all over her perfectly clean hand?—until Stiles hurriedly ushers her away with a stilted laugh and Scott distracts the poor guy with his sunshiny dimples.

So yeah, Malia gets used to Scott correcting everything she says and Lydia working with her every night so she can at least pass with C’s. But that doesn’t mean Malia _enjoys_ not being good at any of this stuff, at seeing the disappointed frown her father wears whenever he receives her report cards.

At her lowest points, she sometimes gazes outside at the treeline of the preserve and wishes she had never left.

On the other hand, so much failure makes every success taste that much sweeter. Exhibit A: summer school, AKA the bane of Malia’s very existence. When Mr. Yukimura first brought it up near the end of second semester junior year, Malia made her opinion very clear with a curled up lip and an unhappy rumble from deep in her chest. But Lydia had just given her a chiding look while thanking Mr. Yukimura and promising to look into it.

“C’mon,” Kira encouraged, flipping through a _How to Make Summer School Fun in 9 Easy Steps!_ pamphlet while Malia face planted on her bed to let out a low groan of annoyance into Kira’s pillow, “it won’t be too bad. I’ll even take something with you, if you want.”

“You really want to spend a month and a half of your summer vacation taking remedial math, chemistry, and American literature?” The flowery quilt covering Kira’s bed muffled Malia’s dubious response.

“Well, I did get a C in lit last year. Maybe I can bump it up,” chirped Kira cheerfully, shuffling through the packet detailing deadlines for payment. “Mom’s always harping on me about my grades.”

Malia lifted her head, brow scrunched in confusion. “You’d really take them with me?” She honestly couldn’t imagine anything worse than wasting their precious months of freedom with _more_ school, and yet…

From where she sat in the middle of her room on the plush carpet, Kira hid a fond smile behind the sheaf of paper. “Someone’s gotta make sure you graduate with us, right?”

Malia felt something warm bubble up in her stomach and pressed her pleased smile into Kira’s pillow. She felt touched by Kira’s kindness. Hesitantly, she blindly reached out one hand, letting it dangle off the edge of the mattress in Kira’s direction. Malia’d never been more grateful that being a kitsune didn’t come with enhanced super senses, so Kira couldn’t smell the embarrassment wafting off her.

Kira didn’t say a word when she loosely twined their fingers, and Malia breathed out softly, content. She turned her head to gaze at Kira, hair falling slightly over her face. The sunlight streaming through the window limned Kira’s skin, making her glow. Malia felt all the air rush out of her lungs in that instant, captivated by the softness of Kira’s eyes and the sharp scent of electricity crackling in the room.

Malia and Kira’s eyes met, tension sparking. It felt like the whole was holding its breath, waiting to see who would make the first move. The Earth teetered on its axis, a hair’s breadth away from tipping over into a stomach-swooping plunge.

But then Mrs. Yukimura called out, “Kira, dinner’s ready. I hope your friend likes sashimi.”

And the moment never came. The Earth realigned, the world emptied its lungs, and Malia looked away.

* * *

Overall, summer school sucked about as badly as Malia had been expecting. But she won’t deny that having Kira at her side every day lightened the load considerably, if only because it gave her someone to bitch to about having to get up early and a fairly reliable source of copyable homework.

Then the whole dating thing ended up happening, which was easily worth _two_ summers of school as far as Malia was concerned. Dating meant holding hands while walking to class, curling an arm around Kira’s shoulders as she laughed too hard as something ridiculous Malia said, resting her chin on Kira’s head while they studied.

Plus, who knew kisses from a certain kitsune as rewards would motivate Malia to get a B- on her chem quizzes? Her dad was so proud.

That was two years ago, and now here they are, having managed to scrape by high school with manageable grades and entering their second and final year of Beacon Hills Community College. As much as Malia is loathe to start the whole God awful cycle of school all over again—you’d think she would’ve gotten used to it all by now—she feels much more in control of everything. Instead of floundering around, she’s hoping to raise her less than stellar high school GPA.

With Kira at her side, even that doesn’t seem so impossible.

Then again, first Malia has to survive Kira’s smug, “I told you so,” when she opens the door for Malia, who’s drenched head to foot with the sheets of rain pounding down. Even the fact that she and Kira rent a townhouse, something that usually makes her core warm and tingly with happiness, can’t uplift her spirits.

“Aren’t we supposed to be in a drought?” grumbles Malia as she dourly kicks a puddle on her way to the door. She’s already soaked, so what’s a little more muddy water on the edge of her jeans?

It wouldn’t be so unbearable if Kira hadn’t asked her a thousand times before she went out if Malia was _sure_ she didn’t want to bring her rain coat. “I think my weather app said 60% rain,” fretted Kira as Malia grabbed her phone and shoes by the front door. “And the weather man said 80%! It’s his literal job to tell accurate weather reports, Malia. If we can’t trust him, who can we trust?”

“You weren’t watching the news,” Malia pointed out, nodding towards the Korean drama still playing on the TV. She tugged on her boots. “Nice try. Relax, Kira, I’ll only be gone, like, 20 minutes tops. Derek just wanted someone to double check a scent he found. I’ll be back before you know it.” She darted over to her anxious girlfriend and pressed a reassuring kiss to Kira’s cheek.

“But,” Kira protested faintly, face bright red as she clutched the umbrella she had dug out of the closet, “rain…”

Knowing she’d won, Malia hid an affectionate smile against Kira’s temple. She took a moment to enjoy the way her scent lingered on Kira’s skin before firmly replying, “Bye, Kira.”

Now, it takes Malia a good thirty seconds of just staring at the door, shivering as a particularly harsh gust of wind rattles her teeth, before she can bring herself to even knock. But a booming roar of thunder finally convinces her that even her wounded pride isn’t worth, say, getting struck by lightning.

Too bad dating a kitsune doesn’t make her immune, or else Malia might entertain the idea of stalling just a little bit longer.

But the vicious fork of electricity tearing open the sky finally has Malia pounding on the door to be heard over the torrent of rain. The door flies open moments later.

 _Here we go_ , Malia braces herself for the inevitable scolding she’s about to get. It’ll be even worse than a Lydia-style chastisement because Kira’s lips will purse in annoyance and her scent will sour with chagrin.

At least when Lydia gets pissed off, she’s upfront about it. She hisses out a few choice threats and narrows her eyes and maybe clicks her perfectly manicured nails on a hard surface in an ominous fashion. But then the worst of the storm is over. Once she gets over her initial fury, Lydia is all pragmatic thinking to fix whatever problem Malia—or another pack member—caused.

Kira, on the other hand, can go for days. She won’t say anything outright, but her face will pinch up in spite of the understanding smile she tries to front. Kira relies on small things to vent her frustration: not returning calls, refusing to be in the same room as or downright ignoring Malia. She plays the long game, which Malia doesn’t have the patience for. But Malia has found, through experience, that trying to rush Kira through her ire only makes it worse and longer. So Malia just tends to tough it out, sulking and pretending that it doesn’t hurt every time Kira doesn’t answer a text.

However, Malia doesn’t find a pissed off kitsune on the other side of the door like expected. Instead, she has to think fast and just barely catches Kira as she comes barrelling out. Even with all the rain interfering with scents, Malia can’t miss how Kira stinks of worry and anxiety. It makes her skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Malia!” Kira doesn’t even seem to notice the rain seeping into her sweater and dampening her hair.

“Kira?” This, an armful of concerned girlfriend, is most definitely not the welcome Malia had been expecting. Not that she’s complaining.

“Are you okay?” demands Kira, arms still tight around Malia’s neck and face smushed against Malia’s collarbone. “I heard the thunder and there was so much lightning…”

Malia can barely hear her over the screaming wind and the spattering rain, so she gently nudges them both inside and firmly shuts the door. The warmth of the roaring heater and the familiar mix of smells of their shared space ensconce Malia, chasing away any lingering cold. “I’m fine,” insists Malia, peeling off her sopping plaid flannel and flinging it onto the ground. “I’m fine.” She presses her nose to the crown of Kira’s head for a moment, placing her palm to Kira’s neck to refresh her scent on Kira’s skin.

Kira makes a face at the puddle that instantly forms on the hardwood, but quickly grabs a towel to sop it up. Then, as Malia strips, she gathers up the growing pile of wet clothes and adds her own now-soggy jeans, sweater, and bra. Throwing them in the hamper in the bathroom, Kira shivers despite the thermostat’s cozy 74 degrees. She hastily retrieves a blanket to wrap around herself to ward off the chill.

She comes back out to the living room only to find it deserted. Blinking in surprise, Kira looks around and spies the whisk of a furry brown tail disappearing into their bedroom. She smiles quietly to herself before heading to the kitchen to prepare some tea. She debates taking out two cups, but then decides that they can just share if Malia decides she wants some later.

The scent of chamomile curling comfortingly around her, Kira makes her way to their room. She walks down the hall, hands tightly curving around the hot ceramic. The scene that greets her doesn’t surprise Kira in the least, but she can’t help the faint smile she hides against her tea mug anyway.

Malia has loaded the bed with all of their comfiest pillows and is in the middle of dragging a soft-looking afghan with her teeth to add to the half-finished blanket nest. Kira watches with amusement as Malia pads around, pointed ears twitching, to snag a couple more throw pillows and Kira’s favorite sleep shirt. Then the coyote hops onto the mattress, looking very pleased with herself. She glances at Kira expectantly, tail swishing against the covers.

Kira giggles, walks over, and sets her tea on the night stand. “All this for me?” she asks teasingly, slipping on the long shirt that nearly brushes her knees. “I’m flattered.” She foregoes sweatpants entirely, more eager to clamber into bed and a run a hand through Malia’s coarse fur.

Malia’s chest rumbles and her eyes drift shut in contentment as Kira scratches her silky stomach. Outside, the storm futilely batters their windows, but Kira feels like nothing can shatter the wall of pillows Malia has built. She feels like nothing can get touch them in their impenetrable fortress of stitches and stuffing. Malia rests her head on Kira’s stomach, eyes glowing faintly when a fork of lightning lights up the room, and Kira feels at ease.


End file.
